


Breaking Donald

by TheAnnoyingAlien



Series: Vampire AU I Guess [1]
Category: Political RPF - US 20th c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Bad Puns, Bernillary, Billary, Blood Drinking, Campaign Slogans Used in Sexual Contexts, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Frenemies, Gay, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Sandtrump, Twilight References, Vampire Bites, Vampire Politicians, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnnoyingAlien/pseuds/TheAnnoyingAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title is a pun on the Twilight book Breaking Dawn. After the California primary, the three remaining presidential candidates spend some time relaxing at a hotel before continuing on with their campaigns. Republican nominee Donald Trump encounters one of his opponents during an evening stroll on the beach and things take an interesting turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Donald

**Author's Note:**

> This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever written. It was Sims 3 of all things that inspired me to write this. I have a file on there with a bunch of Sims I made of politicians and my Bernie Sanders sim is a vampire. Anyways, enjoy this dumbass fanfiction.

It was Wednesday evening, the night after the newest wave of primaries. The three remaining presidential candidates were all spending a few days at a luxurious beachside hotel in California, squeezing in some much-needed leisure time before continuing on with their campaigns. One of those candidates had decided to step out for a bit to enjoy a stroll along the moonlit shore. 

He was rather overdressed for the beach in his suit and tie, and his skin was tanned a bright shade of orange, though it was a very obviously fake tan, not one acquired from hours of lying out in the sun. The candidate’s messy blonde hair blew about slightly in the gentle sea breeze as he walked across the sand, and he looked around, grinning a satisfied grin when he saw that the beach was entirely empty aside from himself.

Donald Trump was pleased to finally have some alone time. He reveled in the attention he received from his swarms of fans, but it was nice to have a moment to himself to relax every now and then, especially after the impressive feat he had accomplished. Having comfortably secured the Republican nomination, the only thing he had to worry about now was how he would defeat the Democratic nominee. Trump smirked smugly as he thought back on how he had crushed the many other Republican candidates, and he looked forward to doing the same to the Democrats in November. But November was a long ways away; there was no need for him to stress over that right now. Pushing politics out of his mind for the time being, he took in the sight of the beach, watching the tide ebb and flow and listening to the soft crunch of the sand beneath his shoes. His walk was rather uneventful for the next few minutes, he strolled casually down the shore, leaving footprints in the sand and admiring the beautiful vista. But then, after getting about three quarters of the way over to the other side of the beach, Trump paused. He spied a solitary figure down at the beach’s end. They were standing completely still, slouching a bit with their arms crossed over their chest as they gazed up at the moon and stars.

“Who the hell is that?” Trump muttered. He squinted his eyes to get a clearer look at the individual. It was another man around his age, maybe a few years older, with untamed white hair and glasses.

“Oh. It’s him.” The Republican scoffed, recognizing the other man instantly. It was Bernie Sanders, one of the Democratic candidates. Sanders looked rather dour, which Trump thought was understandable considering he’d been beaten in his quest for the Democratic nomination, and beaten by Crooked Hillary no less! Trump smiled wickedly, deciding that it would be fun to antagonize the other politician and further put a damper on his mood. He continued walking down the beach until he was just a few feet away from the failed candidate. Bernie hadn’t yet noticed his presence; Trump planned to use this to his advantage and quietly crept up behind him. He leaned in so his lips were only a few inches from the other man’s ears and grinned.

“Well, it looks like you got Berned today.” He teased. Bernie flinched, startled by the unexpected sound of the other man’s voice, and whipped around to face him. Upon realizing that it was Trump speaking to him, his eyes narrowed, and a frown crossed his face.

“Go away, Trump. I don’t feel like dealing with you right now.” He snapped bitterly.

“What’s the matter?” Trump asked, mockingly feigning concern. “Feeling a bit… Bernt out?” He chuckled at his own stupid pun. Bernie grimaced; he had come to the beach to be alone while he moped about losing the nomination, not to listen to this obnoxious Republican use his own campaign slogan to insult him.

“Trump, I’m going to give you until the count of three to leave me alone,” He warned the man, “If you’re not gone by then I’m going to hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m so scared!” Trump laughed, not at all phased by the threat, “I’d like to see you try, old man! I’m stronger and younger than you; there’s no way you can hurt me!” He flexed his nonexistent muscles in an attempt to intimidate Bernie. Bernie was more irritated than intimidated, however.

“One.” He began counting off.

“You can’t beat me!”

“Two.”

“I could easily knock your ass out!”

“Three.”

“Hell, you’re so weak that even a woman like Crooked Hillary could kick your-” Trump started to say, but he was cut off by the other man’s fist colliding with his jaw. He staggered backwards, managing to keep his footing in spite of the force of the candidate’s punch, and rubbed his sore cheek. “Ow! That hurt!” He whined.

“It wasn’t exactly supposed to feel good.” Bernie pointed out.

“Why you… I’ll get you for this!” Trump roared, balling his hands into fists. Bernie gave an amused chuckle.

“I’d like to see you try.” Trump raised his arm in preparation to strike him, but he paused momentarily, noticing something strange about the other man’s eyes. They were… scarlet. He was certain that they hadn’t been like that before. Trump thought that the sudden color change was odd, but he wasn’t about to let that deter him. He charged at the older man and swung his fist at him, but Bernie reacted with inhuman speed and caught him by the arm, stopping his fist mere centimeters from his nose. Before Trump could even process what had happened, Bernie flipped him, throwing him down onto his back in the sand. He pounced on top of the Republican, pinning his wrists above his head and straddling his legs, trapping him against the shore. Trump was completely floored; he hadn’t expected to be beaten, especially with such little effort.

“No fair!” He cried, squirming and kicking underneath the other candidate. “There’s no way you’re stronger than me! This can’t be possible!” 

“I am and it is.” Bernie replied. “You lose, Trump.” Trump glared at the older man and was about to start berating him again, but he hesitated as his eyes fell upon Bernie’s mouth. There was something alarming about his teeth that he hadn’t previously noticed. Bernie had fangs, two sharp, white fangs that glinted in the moonlight.

“What the fuck!?” The Republican exclaimed. “You’ve got fangs!”

“Fangs for noticing.” Bernie chuckled, grinning proudly at his shitty pun. Trump didn’t find any humor in it, however. He was beginning to grow very uncomfortable pinned beneath his adversary, and the man’s unusually sharp teeth weren’t making him feel any better.

“Let me up right now and tell me what the fuck is going on!” He demanded, trying vainly to mask his anxiety with anger. “I want some answers! Why do you have fangs?” Bernie rolled his eyes, released Trump’s wrists, and got off of him, allowing the man to rise to his feet. Trump dusted the sand off of his suit and looked expectantly at the other candidate, waiting for a response.

“Well, if you really must know,” Bernie began, “I have fangs because I’m a vampire.” Trump tilted his head to the side, confused.

“A vampire?” He repeated. “B-but… I’ve seen you go out in the sun before! Don’t vampires die in the sun?”

“That’s a common misconception,” Bernie explained, “We don’t die in sunlight; we’re just weakened by it. And we don’t sparkle in it either like in those awful novels and movies.”

“Hey! I love Twilight!” Trump snapped angrily. “Ah, forget it… so, the sun doesn’t kill you, but would you die if you ate garlic bread? Like if you went to Olive Garden or something and ate some of their garlic breadsticks would it kill you? Vampires can’t have garlic, right?”

“No, I wouldn’t die if I did that,” Bernie sighed, “It’d just make me sick. Garlic can only kill vampires if there’s a lot of it, the amount of garlic in a single breadstick wouldn’t be enough to kill me.”

“So… if you ate like one breadstick you’d be good, but if you ate a bunch you’d die?”

“Are you planning on trying to kill me with garlic bread?”

“I’m just curious! Now answer my question!” Trump ordered him, stamping his foot in the sand for emphasis. Bernie sighed again. He just wanted to be alone, not to play 20 Questions: Vampire Edition with the Republican nominee.

“I wouldn’t even be eating garlic bread in the first place.” He pointed out. “I’m a vampire, I drink blood instead of eating human food. I’m capable of eating it, but why would I? It doesn’t offer me any nutrition and it tastes awful; blood is much more satisfying.”

“Oh. Right.” Trump felt kind of stupid for failing to consider that. The vampires in Twilight hated the taste of human food; it was reasonable to assume that Sanders did as well.

“Speaking of blood,” Bernie said, “I could actually really use some right now. It’s been a while since I’ve last drunken from someone.”

“Well, that’s not my problem,” Trump scoffed, crossing his arms, “Why don’t you get your ass off this beach and go find some loser to drink from?”

“I think I’ve already found some loser to drink from.” Bernie replied, grinning a salacious grin that made Trump feel uneasy.

“Excuse me?” Bernie moved in closer to him, still wearing that grin, and reached up to cup his cheek. The Republican blushed, flustered by the physical contact. 

“Listen Trump,” The older man said gently, “I don’t like you and you don’t like me, but since you’re here… would it be alright if I drank some of your blood?”

“What!?” Trump cried, swatting Sanders’ hand away and taking several steps back from him, “Hell no it wouldn’t! Why don’t you drink from Crooked Hillary instead? You must be desperate if you’re asking to drink from me!”

“She’s already being drunken from by another vampire.” Bernie revealed. “If a human is already providing one vampire with blood, they really shouldn’t be giving it to another one as well. It’ll weaken them too much and might cause them some harm.”

“Who’s drinking from her!?” Trump shouted. “How many of you bloodsuckers are there?”

“There’re a lot of us,” Bernie laughed, “As for who’s drinking from her… well, that’s a secret.”

“Great, now do I have to build a wall to keep vampires out too?” Trump groaned. He liked reading about vampires in Twilight, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to live around any. What if they stalked him for his blood? What if they tried to convert him into a vampire himself? He didn’t want to have to stress over that, he wanted all vampires out of America, out like all of those Mexicans trying to take everyone’s jobs!

“A wall wouldn’t stop us,” Bernie told him, “We can fly, you know.” To prove his point, he lifted off of the sandy ground, hovering several feet above Trump’s head.

“Holy shit…” The Republican gasped. He had never read about or seen vampires flying before. The vampires in Twilight couldn’t fly; they just ran really fast and jumped from tree to tree in the woods. Bernie flashed him a smile and did several flips in the air, showing off for him, but Trump wasn’t sure if he should feel impressed or horrified. 

“Yep, I could just fly on over that wall of yours.” The older man smirked. “You can try to keep us out, but we’ll always find a way back in.”

“Stop doing that!” Trump shrieked. “It’s freaking me out!”

“There’s no need for you to be afraid of people like me,” Bernie assured him, floating back down so his feet touched the sand once again. “Like people, most vampires are friendly.”

“I’m not afraid of you!” Trump huffed indignantly. “I love vampires-I’m a big fan of Twilight, after all-I just don’t want any of you hunting me for my blood or turning me into one of you!”

“I only turn people or drink from them if they ask me to or offer themselves.” Bernie explained. “There are some vampires who let their natural lust for blood overcome them and who drink from humans against their wills, but most vampires are able to suppress that instinct and avoid becoming predatory. I will admit that I’ve had moments in the past where I’ve gotten like that, but fortunately I’ve never harmed any humans during them.”

“You’re not going to get like that around me, are you?” Trump asked. He tried not to let it show, but he was nervous. Bernie had already proven that he was stronger than him and more than capable of taking him down. If it was blood that he wanted, he could easily get it, with or without his consent.

“No, I’m not.” The vampire answered, much to Trump’s relief. “I’ve gone a while without drinking, but not so long that my instinct is taking over. I can keep my bloodlust under control; I won’t drink from you unless you give me permission, and it doesn’t appear that you’re going to do that, so I’ll just go out and see if there are any fans of mine lurking around who’ll let me drink their blood.” Bernie turned away from Trump and prepared to walk off in search of other people to drink from, but Trump grabbed hold of his arm, preventing him from leaving.

“Wait! I… I have something else I want to ask.” Bernie sighed at this. Oh joy, more questions.

“Is it about more things that can kill me?”

“No, I was just wondering… what does it feel like to be bitten? Does… does it hurt?” Trump inquired, sounding uncharacteristically worried. As anxious as he was about being bitten by the vampire, he couldn’t help but feel a bit curious about it as well.

“Oh. Well, it actually doesn’t hurt all that much,” Said Bernie, “The people I’ve bitten describe it as stinging a bit at first, like when you prick yourself with a pin, but after that the pain goes away. In fact, a lot of people tell me that it starts to feel nice after a while. They’ve said it’s so gentle it could be compared to a kiss.”

“I don’t know what kind of kissing you’re doing, but I don’t bite people when I kiss them.” The Republican scoffed. “Also, when you bite a human, does it automatically turn them into a vampire? Like if you bit me, would I turn into one? Because in Twilight-“

“This isn’t Twilight! This is real life!” Bernie yelled, cutting him off.

“I know that!” Trump shouted back. “Answer the question!”

“Ugh, fine,” Bernie grumbled, “No, if I were to bite you it wouldn’t automatically turn you into a vampire. Vampires have a sort of venom that they can inject into the people they bite-“

“Like in Twilight!”

“Shut up about Twilight! Anyways, this venom isn’t automatically injected every single time I bite a human. I can choose whether or not I want to inject someone with it. If I do inject somebody, it’ll start the process of transforming them into a vampire. If I don’t, I’ll simply be drinking their blood and nothing special will happen after I’m done. Most of the time when I bite people I’m just drinking from them; I never inject my venom into anyone unless they ask to be transformed. There, that just about covers everything. Can I leave now?”

“One more question first.” 

“What is it?” The vampire groaned impatiently. Trump blushed; how could he say this without sounding awkward?

“What if… uh… what if I said you could drink from me?” He asked.

“Wait… what?” Bernie exclaimed. “I thought you didn’t want me to drink from you!”

“I didn’t at first, but now that you’ve taught me about all of this vampire shit I’m curious.” Trump admitted. “I want to know what it feels like to be bitten. If it really is as gentle as you say it is, and if you’re not going to turn me into a vampire, I’m willing to let you drink my blood. But you better not tell anyone about this! What happens on this beach stays on this beach.” He didn’t want anyone knowing that he was doing something as generous as this for one of his opponents. That would be a sign of weakness, and he was most certainly not weak.

“Well, alright then,” Bernie agreed. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. Now let me drink from you.” Trump rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his bare wrist.

“Here.” He said. “Bite it.”

“What about your neck?” Bernie asked.

“What about it?”

“Can I bite it?” Trump covered his neck with his hands and backed away.

“That’ll hurt!” He whined. Sanders had said that vampire bites were gentle, but the Republican was hesitant to let anything as sharp as his fangs anywhere near his neck.

“Some people find it sexy,” Bernie smirked, “I’ve had a lot of young fans of mine find it sexy. Their blood isn’t the only thing that they want me to suck.”

“That’s fucking gross!” Trump cried, cheeks burning bright red. “How could anyone find that sexy?” However, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Bernie bite him in that way. Things would end badly for him if the Republican Party found out, but he did think other men were attractive, and the vampire before him was looking quite attractive right about now. Sure, Bernie was old and was one of his opponents, but Trump couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. There was something alluring about the vampire, something that captivated him. Would it really be that bad to let him bite his neck?

“If you really don’t want to do it I understand,” Bernie said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Here, give me your wrist-“

“No wait!” He yelped, jerking his arm away. “I, uh… I’ll let you drink from my neck.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sure! Just do it already!” Trump tugged his shirt collar down, exposing his neck. Without any hesitation, Bernie cupped his cheek and tilted his head slightly to the side. He leaned in close and sunk his teeth into Trump’s skin, making the Republican cringe. Bernie’s bite stung quite a bit, and for a second he considered cursing him out for it. But then… it started to feel kind of nice. Trump grew weak in the knees and pitched forward a bit; Bernie caught him around the waist with his other arm to keep him from falling. He snuggled into the vampire’s strong embrace; it had been such a long time since he’d been held like this by another man, and it felt so wonderful, so pleasant. He would’ve gladly let Bernie drain him of all his blood if it meant that he could die in his arms, but Bernie had no intention of killing him. Once he had had his fill, the vampire pulled away, leaving two small, bleeding holes where his fangs had been. He lapped up the remaining trickles of blood dripping from the Republican’s neck, making him tremble.

“Oh, yes,” Bernie growled against his skin, “I haven’t had blood that good in such a long time.” He lifted his head and broke away from Trump, but Trump didn’t want him to go just yet. He grabbed hold of Sanders and pressed his face back firmly against his neck, much to the vampire’s confusion.

“Oh God, don’t stop.” He moaned. “That feels great.”

“I’ve had a lot to drink already,” Bernie informed him, pulling away once more, “Thank you for letting me drink from you, but my thirst has been quenched for now, and you need your blood. I’m not going to drink any more of it.”

“You don’t have to drink my blood, just… please don’t take your mouth off of me.” Trump begged. Bernie paused for a moment to process what the man had just asked of him. Donald Trump, of all people, was pleading for him to essentially kiss his neck. Should he do it? Trump was his opponent, a horrible man who would do a horrible job leading the country if the presidency fell into his hands. But… Bernie felt an odd attraction to him that he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the blood talking, but Trump actually didn’t look half bad. It wouldn’t be a crime to leave a few kisses on him, would it? No, not at all! Bernie leaned in and brought his lips to Trump’s neck, gently kissing the two fang marks he had left there. Trump wrapped his arms around the vampire, letting his hands slide up his back as he peppered more kisses along his skin. Bernie raised his head, gazing lovingly into Trump’s eyes as he reached up to caress his cheek. 

“You’re looking quite pale, even with that spray tan of yours,” He murmured, “Maybe I can bring some color back to your cheeks…” He drew Trump’s face close to his and planted a tender kiss upon his lips. Trump went weak in the knees again and fell backwards into the sand, pulling Bernie down on top of him. He wanted a deeper kiss and parted his lips, allowing the vampire to slip his tongue into his mouth. This was going way further than a few kisses to the neck, and it would certainly seem questionable to their supporters had any been there watching them, but both men were too caught up in the moment to care. Screw their supporters, they were having a good time and they were going to roll with it. They made out passionately in the sand, Bernie being careful to not stick Trump’s lips with his fangs as they did so, grinding and feeling up on each other’s bodies. The two men paused after a particularly hungry kiss to catch their breath; Trump felt his pale cheeks flush with color and his heart begin to race uncontrollably. Before he had been angered and intimidated about having the older man on top of him, but now he found it exhilarating. He wanted more, wanted to go further with Bernie, and Bernie seemed to want the same thing. The vampire’s eyes had gone scarlet again, and Trump could feel something hard pressing into his thigh.

“Ooh! I really am feeling the Bern now.” He smirked.

“And getting felt up by the Bern.” Bernie leered, sliding his hand up underneath the Republican’s shirt to fondle his chest. “I had your blood, Donald, can I have you too?”

“You can have me, but why don’t we continue this in my suite?” Trump suggested, nodding towards the hotel. The beach was deserted since it was so late, but he wasn’t going to chance being caught in the middle of an intimate encounter with one of his opponents. Bernie nodded and got off of him; Trump rose from the sand and the two of them started walking back towards the hotel together, Bernie resting one of his hands on the Republican’s ass as they did so.

Back at the hotel, while Trump and Sanders were off having their fun, the third and final remaining candidate was busy getting ready for bed. 

Hillary Clinton stood in the bathroom of her own suite, brushing her hair out in the mirror. She brought her hairbrush in front of her face and used it to flip up a section of hair, allowing her to examine the roots underneath. The nominee frowned; they were looking a bit gray. She would have to schedule an appointment to get her hair dyed again sometime in the near future. 

Hillary was well aware that some people saw her as vain for dying her hair at her age, but she knew all too well that she’d also get criticism if she let it gray. It was a double-edged sword-if she didn’t dye it, she cared too little about her appearance, and if she did, she cared too much. She figured she might as well just dye it and ignore what anyone had to say about it. Besides, she wasn’t the type of woman to let something as silly as people poking fun at her appearance get her down. She continued on brushing her hair, but she paused when she felt a hand come to rest upon her shoulder, and warm lips pressed up against the nape of her neck, though in the mirror she saw only herself reflected. Hillary smiled, not at all frightened by this, and set the hairbrush aside on the counter.

“I still remember how much that used to scare me when we first started dating,” She laughed, “Hello, Bill.” She turned around, coming face to face with none other than her husband, former president Bill Clinton. Bill looked unhealthily pale and haggard, as if he hadn’t been sleeping or eating well for some time, and his normally blue eyes were scarlet. He grinned, revealing a pair of sharp fangs, and embraced his wife in a warm hug.

“Hi, Hillary.” He greeted her. “God, I love holding you close to me. It’s so nice to finally have some alone time together, isn’t it?” Hillary nodded and nuzzled into his embrace. It had been so long since they’d last had a moment to themselves.

“Yes,” She agreed, “It’s just the two of us. There’s no one to bother you and I, no one to harass us-”

“-And no one to stop me from sinking my teeth into that lovely neck of yours.” Bill leered, sliding a finger underneath the string of pearls around her neck and tugging at it slightly. Hillary couldn’t help but grin at this. She knew what he wanted and needed, and she was more than willing to give it to him.

“I can take a hint,” She smirked, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.” They exited the bathroom together and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hillary removed her pearl necklace and set it aside on the nightstand, baring her neck to her husband. Bill wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close again, stroking her back as he held her.

“Why don’t we lie down?” He suggested. “Get a bit more comfortable, you know?” They shifted themselves a bit, and Hillary found herself lying on her back with Bill on top of her. Satisfied with their position, Bill brought his mouth to her neck and bit down, piercing her skin with his fangs. She winced as he began to drink her blood; it always stung a bit at first. The pain quickly subsided, however, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he drank, enjoying the intimacy of the act. Bill seemed especially thirsty this evening, and Hillary knew why. He had been restraining himself lately, drinking less of her blood than usual and drinking from her less often, knowing that she needed her strength for campaigning. But now, with her having secured the Democratic nomination, he was free to drink from her as he pleased. After having his fill, Bill lifted his head from his wife’s neck, though he remained on top of her. Hillary gazed up at him and smiled approvingly; he had a much more robust appearance now. His pale cheeks were flush with a rosy glow, and he no longer looked tired and worn down. He stroked her neck and kissed her softly on the lips, silently thanking her for the blood she’d given him.

“You’re welcome, honey.” She whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. Bill clasped her hand in his own and caught her lips in yet another kiss, more intense and passionate than the first one. He would feed off of some of his friends and willing fans every now and then, but her blood was always his favorite, and he made sure that she knew that, knew just how much he loved her and loved drinking from her. But there was something else he loved doing with her too, and he figured that now was the perfect moment to bring it up.

“You know, your blood isn’t the only thing I’m lusting for this evening,” He smirked, “I’m lusting for you as well.” Hillary grinned and reached over to switch off the lights, shrouding the two of them in darkness.

“You wanted us to lie down so we’d be more comfortable, yeah right!” She laughed, “I know you really wanted to have me underneath you so we could have sex.”

“You don’t have to be underneath me for that,” Bill chuckled, “We can do it with you on top instead.”

“Maybe later, but this is fine for the time being.” Hillary decided. “Now, let’s make good use of our alone time.” Bill kissed her again and reached down to start undoing his pants.

“Let’s.”

The following morning, Hillary woke up rather early, though Bill was still fast asleep beside her. She felt a bit hungry, and knowing that her husband had been sated by her blood and had no desire to consume human food, she opted to leave him be and go by herself to the café in the lobby to get some breakfast. After dressing in a fashionable blue pantsuit and doing her hair and makeup she exited their suite. 

As she entered the hall, a surprising sight met her eyes. The door to the adjacent suite swung open, and Bernie and Trump stepped out of it together. Trump looked like a wreck; his hair was even more wild and messy than usual, he was very pasty, his suit was disheveled, and he had one of his hands clasped tightly over his neck. Bernie on the other hand contrasted him wildly. His face was full of color, he looked very lively, and his suit was pristine. Hillary stood there in stunned silence, watching the two other candidates. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there was really only one logical reason she could think of for them to spend the night in the same room, and she blushed at the thought of it as she continued quietly observing the men. Trump was too preoccupied with fixing his suit to pay her any mind, but Bernie noticed her staring. He flashed her a friendly smile and waved, she smiled awkwardly and waved back.

“No one can ever know about this.” Trump muttered to Bernie as he adjusted his tie and buttoned his jacket, trying to make himself look more presentable. “No one can ever find out that we fucked.”

“Sorry, Donald, but it looks like it’s a little late for that...” Bernie smirked, nodding to Hillary. Trump whipped around to face her, growing panicked once he realized she had overheard their conversation.

“Uh… hi.” She greeted him.

“Agh! You better erase this from your memory like you erased those emails, you crooked bitch!” He snapped at her before turning back to Bernie. “And you! You kinky bloodsucking bastard! Don’t you think we’re going to do this again in the future! This was a one and done thing, no more sex with The Donald for you!” With that, he retreated back into his suite, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving the two Democratic candidates alone in the hall. There was an uncomfortable silence between Clinton and Sanders that seemed to go on forever.

“So,” Hillary finally said, “I, um… I see that you and Trump spent the evening together. How did that go?”

“Surprisingly, it went well,” Bernie replied, “Though I don’t think I’d do it again, and he doesn’t seem to want to anyways. How was your evening?”

“It was nice. I spent it with my husband.”

“Oh, did you now?” Bernie mused. “Well, how’d you like to spend the morning with me?” Hillary looked at him like he was insane.

“Excuse me?” He grinned and placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“I’m not quite ready to say I’m with her, but it would be nice to say I’ve been with her-sexually, that is.”

“Oh my God.”

“Let’s Netflix and Chillary.”

“Bernie.”

“Or we could make the bedroom great again.”

“Are you seriously trying to seduce me with campaign slogans?”

“No, I’m just messing with you,” Bernie laughed, “You made it very clear when I approached you after our first debate that you weren’t interested. But if you ever change your mind, let me know.” With that, he left, heading down the hallway and turning the corner. Hillary sighed, shook her head, and headed off in the opposite direction towards the stairs leading to the lobby.

“This election is so fucking insane.” She muttered to herself.

The End


End file.
